To John Paul Leon
John Paul Leon passed away, at 49, on May 2nd. The news just kinda knocked me on my ass, and I’m not sure that I have recovered today, on May 5th, as I’m writing this. This has happened many times before, and it will happen again, every time the one too many. I don’t think I’m qualified to run through his whole history, or to look for the career highlights in a career that’s only been career highlights, and I hope the people that are better-equipped for that kind of thing have done it already. What I can tell you, from where I am sitting, is that John Paul Leon’s art was beautiful, it was true, and it was profoundly concerned with the humanity of its subjects. There is a stark honesty to his deep black inks that will be forever unmatched, and I cannot think of any higher praise. To love comics is to love John Paul Leon, end of.
His family and studio mates have launched a fundraiser in his honor, and, if you can, I would encourage you to donate. The comic book industry runs on the commerce of truth and beauty, but in this commodity trade it far too often seems to forget that people are directly responsible for creating said truth and beauty. I wish it didn’t take funerals or the inhumane American healthcare system for us to remember that. Tell your favorite creator you love them today.
Now, the reviews:
We know from the first two issues that Eduardo Pansica and Robbie Thompson can execute on those ever-important Suicide Squad staples of high-stakes action, gallows humor, and all-too credible lethality. Suicide Squad #3 completes the repertoire, by doing the ever-important “Downtime, intrigue, and mission briefings” issue. Good thing too, because there is a capital-w capital-l Whole Lot to go over. Like “What exactly is the deal with Conner Kent right now?” or “Why is Peacemaker Like That?”. And of course, that old chestnut “Just what in the hell does Amanda Waller have planned?”.
A Suicide Squad run is only ever as strong as its depiction of the Squad’s dearest leader, and here she’s just ruthless, focused almost to a fault on the mission, and absolutely not in the mood to deal with the baggage of a bunch of reprobates, quick with the reminders that she has the power to kill anyone under her command at will. And as if there wasn’t enough that could go wrong with all the plates spinning in secret, the next job involves the abduction of one of the students at the Teen Titans Academy, the super-speedster known as Bolt. The last few pages of the issue get into a bit of action, going sideways for the reasons you might expect, and making for a pretty fun teaser to the second part of the crossover, coming in Teen Titans Academy #3. Already it’s been a lot of fun, and it promises to be more, so, well, Suicide Squad proves once more why it’s a series that you can always enjoy.
If Green Lantern #1 was a simple Green Lantern story used as a device to run the inventory of all things in DC’s greater cosmos, then Green Lantern #2 is about taking that basis and just wildly smashing it. There’s two pages about fighting a dragon, and the rest is pretty much just one big swing after another. In one fell swoop and another oversized issue, Santucci, Soy, and Thorne dramatically shift the scope and the mission of the Green Lantern Corps, update the history and the cosmology of the DC Universe into a shape that feels resonant with other great reveals in DC history (wouldn’t you know it, there is once again seven of something out there), and then for good measure they blow it all up, setting the table for a final reveal which was advertised but still comes off as a surprise.
This should not work. It’s a comic that’s light on action and heavy on blowing up the Green Lantern Central Power Battery, which, as I mentioned during Future State, is as overdone a Green Lantern story as you are likely to find. And yet I found myself completely engrossed by it; some of it because I am a nut for DC’s cosmology, and if you whisper “fifth world” in my ear I am yours forever. But I’m also a sucker for any comic that is willing to go that hard on the sweeping wide-screen style while cramming the picture with as much detail as humanly possible. There’s an epic feel to seeing panels that have 50 different characters, each with different body types, expressing some level of complex emotion, and it is impressive enough on its own to keep me going.
There’s a lot to say about DIE #16, which launches the series’ fourth and final arc. A lot of it is already said in Kieron Gillen’s commentary for the issue -please Kieron, you’ve been a critic yourself, stop doing this to us, we need to figure it out for ourselves so we can tell others that we figured it out, this is how it works- so instead I’m gonna use the issue as a springboard to talk about the series as a whole and why I love it so much.
Nominally, DIE is a fantasy story. Specifically, it’s a riff on the famously unresolved Dungeon & Dragons cartoon, where a group of kids end up in the fantasy world of the very game they were playing. DIE complicates that setup by having its cast return to their fantasy setting 25 years after the fact, which gives the book ample opporunities to reflect, both on its characters and on the fantasies. There, we find the book’s actual purpose, which is to go over the history of tabletop role-playing games, and in doing so, finding a history of escapism.
The genre thrills are many, and they’re all gorgeously illustrated by absolute powerhouse Stephanie Hans. It’s a big fantasy buffet of monsters, adventures, politics and basically everything that’s ever been a thrill to anyone. But more thrilling still for anyone with an interest in TTRPG design will be the very specific call-outs to the history. Some of them very obvious, like when cultists speaking in tongues chant “THACO” as they do their satanic rituals. Others require a little bit of work, like putting together that the character that needs to get their hands on a rare substance to power up their abilities uses the d10 characteristic of Vampire the Masquerade, or knowing that the forge at the heart of one arc’s climax is meant to represent an influential indie RPG forum called The Forge.
And then, the series goes one step further, looking at the more foundational pillars of escapism. There’s Tolkien, obviously, necessarily, but maybe you didn’t realize how instrumental H.G. Welles has been to tabletop games as a whole. Or, for that matter, how much fantasy may owe to the sisters Brontë. The subject of the series’ final deep dive should appear obvious to anyone with an interest in RPGs, and how they got to the ability to tell any kind of story, but I’m gonna keep it a secret because the reveal is worth it. The point is: DIE speaks to a lot of my interests, in a very eloquent way, I love it and I want you to check it out. See you next week and thank you.